


Colours

by Otonymous



Category: MLQC: Fandom, Mr Love: Queen's Choice, love and producer
Genre: Cameras, F/M, Light Bondage, Photography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-01 21:38:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19185940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otonymous/pseuds/Otonymous
Summary: Lucien has an obsession with photography.





	Colours

**Author's Note:**

> The legendary Lucien thirst continues and is mighty hard to quench, so here’s another story from yours truly. 
> 
> This particular piece was inspired by Lucien’s Archive karma card and its accompanying Moments post.
> 
> As like before, I’m currently stuck on Chapter 8, so apologies once again to the readers who have advanced further in the game if Lucien seems out of character. 
> 
> Happy reading!

_“Lucien…”_

Her moan echoed still in his ears, hauntingly dulcet even as the chemicals washed over the film — particles rearranging into an image of her in black and white, legs parted and draped over the side of his bed. Beckoning.

The professor’s practiced hand moved the tongs gently though the bath, liquid chemistry swirling like memories to gradually reveal more of the woman who had become his life, each picture adding another piece to the tantalizing puzzle:

Supple flesh spilling from delicate lace cups.

Fishnets encasing the thighs he loved to lick.

Brows raised in surprise when her panties tore with a single yank of his hand.

Holding each photo aloft, Lucien added to the collection hung with care throughout his darkroom like the stills of some classic Hollywood film — the same ones he sat through in the early morning hours at the cinema, patiently waiting for day to break. And on the night that Audrey Hepburn raced through the streets of Rome with a besotted Gregory Peck across the silver screen, he found her sleeping in the second seat three rows back, hair obscuring her face then much as it did in the photo in his hand: a memento of her ecstasy…and his obsession.

For Lucien was fascinated with her, with the way hesitation had mixed with desire in her eyes the day he examined her through the aperture of his camera. His thighs had straddled her hips as she lay writhing in anticipation beneath him. A butterfly pinned.

“Lucien, what are you—“

“Didn’t you say you were interested in seeing one of the world’s few remaining film cameras? I can think of no better subject to demonstrate the beauty of the photos it can take.”

One hand reached out to cradle her face as she relented in amused exasperation, and through the lens, Lucien saw her turn to nudge towards his caress, lips parting to suck his index finger deeply into her mouth.

“Face the camera and look at me,” he commanded, his voice a low growl as he pushed another digit past her lips.

She obeyed, eyes wide as she struggled and failed to contain the saliva that trickled down her chin as Lucien slid his fingers in and out of that pretty mouth.

_Snap._

The click of the shutter brought her back to her senses, and her embarrassment grew along with the blush on her cheeks. Anticipating her protests, Lucien removed his hand to slowly drag a glistening trail of spit past the soft notch of her neck and between her collarbones, descending until the tips came to rest within the warmth of her cleavage.

And with one deft movement, the front clasp of her bra came undone, the tension in the straps giving way to allow black lace to part like curtains in a theatre, unblemished skin unveiled before the eyes of a hungry audience.

_Snap._

Lowering his camera, Lucien bent over and pressed his nose to the exposed flesh. And as he inhaled deeply to savour the sweet smell, the buzzing at the back of his brain grew in intensity.

_Was this what it was like to feel intoxicated?_

She wove her hands into his hair, gently tugging the dark strands closer to her heaving chest as his tongue drew slow circles about her nipples. He then stopped, blew softly on the dampened skin, and admired the way they puckered beautifully before pulling away.

_Snap._

“Now you’re just purposely teasing me.”

There was a sharp edge to her voice that drew his attention as well as his camera. He captured the frustration written on her face, admiring the way her shapely brows furrowed in irritation. While he lived for her contentment, the devil on his shoulder constantly sought to tease her into submission.

For Lucien wanted, _needed_ , her completely — mind, body and soul.

He kissed her deeply in apology before stopping to wind his camera, saying,

“When it comes to you, my love, I am nothing but serious.”

_Snap._

Bashfulness. Wonder. His words elicited such emotions in her eyes that Lucien was momentarily relieved to have been looking at her through the viewfinder of a camera. To meet that gaze directly would have been tantamount to relinquishing all control over the beast that raged within to claim her roughly, savagely. And the professor knew it was impossible to appease such an insatiable appetite, for even in her presence, Lucien hungered for her still.

So his camera continued to pan down her body, the shutter clicking away in succession as he tried to capture her in entirety: the dips and curves of her stomach and hips, the sheen of the garter straps that lay against her skin like a bow upon a gift, the silk that gathered the moisture between her legs to cling tellingly against her folds.

“Such a good girl. You wore the fishnet stockings like I asked. Now spread yourself for me.”

Kneeling by the side of the bed, he readied his camera, feeling himself twitch as he gazed upon her gingerly parting legs, reaching out a hand to softly bat hers away when she moved to cover up the middle. Then, adjusting his lens, Lucien focused on the fine mesh laying atop her thighs.

_Snap._

The shot in hand, he bent to kiss them immediately, lips picking up a subtle increase in temperature as they moved towards their insides. And when the heat became too intense, he ran his tongue along their lengths in a bid to cool them down, the tip tracing along the geometry of her stockings.

“Oh god, Lucien…”

Her voice trailed off as she gripped the sheets until her knuckles turned white, the sensation maddeningly ticklish and arousing all at once. While she couldn’t be sure if she wanted to laugh or cry, the professor read her body loud and clear by the way her hips lifted off the bed.

Relenting, Lucien reached for his collar — one hand unbuttoning his shirt as the other continued to hold the camera. His mind worked continuously, contemplating how best to set up his next shot even as his clothing slipped from broad, muscular shoulders.

“Hold still, baby. We don’t want any blurred shots, now do we?”

He watched her lips tremble at the touch of his hand between her legs, the pads of his fingers becoming increasingly damp with each languid stroke along hot silk. Heard her gasp amidst the tearing of fabric as the remnants of her underwear fell away to leave her bare. Caught the intoxicating scent of her arousal when he brought the lens up close to capture the dew that clung to blushing petals.

And when he could stand it no longer, he allowed himself a taste of her nectar.

He ignored it, that voice in the back of his mind that warned him to stay away, to remain indifferent and objective. For he was already well past the point of no return, hopelessly addicted to her flavour on his tongue. And he became a man unhinged.

“Do you trust me?”

Lucien asked, barely able to keep his voice from trembling as he rose to full height, placing the camera beside her head as he busied himself with the buckle of his belt. He smiled to see her nod, not one ounce of trepidation in her eyes as she replied,

“I do.”

“That’s my girl.”

Smoothly sliding his leather belt from his trousers, he looped it around her wrists, binding them together as he fixed the other end to his headboard. Gaze never straying from her face, the professor shed the rest of his clothing, trying to maintain some semblance of control even as he felt it spiralling away to see her bite her lip in desire as his erection sprung free.

“Come to me, Lucien.”

Her voice was soft and inviting, and the irony of the situation didn’t escape him: bound though she was, he was the one under her full control.

One stockinged leg thrown over each shoulder, Lucien filled her over and over again, his hips relentless as they pounded into her flesh so hard the bed shook. He could see that she was becoming overwhelmed, her moans giving way long ago to breathless pants in a struggle to keep up with him. But there was nothing to be done about it now, for he was completely lost in chasing the tight wet heat of her pussy.

The dim red lamp in the darkroom flickered, bringing Lucien back to the present. He looks at the photo in his hand, smiling as he savours it like a fine wine: her face contorted in pleasure as she came undone around him.

“You almost made me drop the camera,” he says to no one in particular.

Then, he sets about developing the final photo, his pièce de résistance. The image starts to appear, angled due to the way she turned the camera back on themselves, excited to be taking a selfie on film. And despite his warnings that it may not turn out, he humours her in her post-coital giddiness, pressing close enough to get into the frame, his lips upon her cheek.

And he was right, most of the photo was a blur.

But her face was in sharp focus, and her smile was bright. And for Lucien, that was enough to turn black and white into a world of colour.


End file.
